The Consort (Tellaran Series) (3 page)

“Patient guy,” Kyndan said wryly.

Tedah didn’t laugh of course—he had to control his expressions like any other Az-kye warrior now—but his mouth quirked upward a bit and his eyes flashed with amusement. “Yeah, well some of that legend is very, uh, detailed.”

Kyndan glanced at the artwork again but this stuff seemed tame enough—the mighty god offering his lady goddess fruits, summoning birds to sing for her, turning a river to fill a cup of water for her. “Az-kye erotica?”

“You should get a copy,” Tedah said. “You know, in the interests of cultural understanding.”

Kyndan shot him a disbelieving look. Ancient Az-kye religious texts weren’t going to have anything he hadn’t heard of before. “Yeah, maybe.”

One of the Az-kye ladies looked him over as she passed, a small smile on her mouth and her gaze speculative over her fan.

“Besides,” Tedah said, “before marriage, women here are very . . . open to experience.”

“Absolutely not,” Kyndan said flatly.

Tedah raised his eyebrows. “You don’t think they’re attractive?”

“Look, Tedah, I only agreed to come because it was my last chance to see Kinna before the baby arrives. In a week I head back to Tellaran space then I ship out for a four-month patrol. I was out of the game for a year,” he reminded. “We both know I’m damned lucky to get a command again at all.” Kyndan threw a disdainful glance at the image of Ren’thar kneeling adoringly at Lashima’s feet, the god’s powerful arms bending a rainbow as an offering to her. “The last thing I need in my life right now is some kind of romantic complication.”

Kinara caught his eye. She, Lianna, and Aidar were standing beside a snowy-haired woman and it was clear from his sister’s urgent glance that she wanted him over there.

“Elder,” she said as he joined them, “allow me to present the Tellaran representative, Commander Kyndan Maere. Commander, this is Sechon, Leader of the Council of Elders.”

Kyndan inclined his head. Sechon was sturdily built with a strong proud carriage despite her snowy hair. “A pleasure, Elder.”

“And a pleasure to meet you as well, Commander,” Sechon said warmly, her dark eyes sharp and intelligent. “You are the first Tellaran I have met.”

Kyndan kept himself from glancing at Kinara or Tedah, both who, despite being obviously of Tellaran birth, were reckoned Az-kye through their marriages. His sister was an Az-kye lady;
he
was a no-account Tellaran.

The sooner he got back home where things made sense, the better.

“I hope I’m the first of many,” he said. “Maybe someday you’ll visit Tellaran space.”

“Do you know, such never occurred to me.” The elder looked delighted. “Perhaps someday, Commander, I shall.”

“Sechon has been a great supporter of the peace talks,” Kinara said.

“Well, then, my people owe you a debt of gratitude for your efforts on our behalf,” Kyndan said.

“The Lady of the Az’anti gives me too much credit,” Sechon said with a laugh. “It is she who made the talks possible, but I was pleased to have offered what assistance I could. It is a time of hope for all of us. But,” she said, with a regretful smile, “I have one or two things to see to before Her Majesty bestows her official sanction. If you will excuse me?”

“Of course,” Kinara said.

“I look forward to speaking with you more at another time, Commander,” Sechon said.

“She seems nice,” Kyndan said when the elder was out of earshot. 

“
She
is Leader of the Council of Elders,” Aidar said. “And as the empress’ most trusted advisor Sechon has the ear of the empress.”

“Well, then I’m glad she’s on our side,” Kyndan said.

There was a stir at the end of the hall, a murmur.

“The First Imperial Daughter,” Aidar said quietly.

Kinara threw a worried glance at him. “Okay, remember—”

“Princess. Bow,” Kyndan muttered. “I got it, Kinna.”

In perfect civility, the center of the hall cleared as the Az-kye drew toward the walls to make way for the princess and her retinue to pass.

Two warriors preceded her and around her walked no fewer than eight women. The princess was surrounded but her attendants kept respectful distance, leaving a circle of isolation around her. The women were older, their heads held proudly, dressed all in the black and gold of Servants of the Empress.

She was young, slender, far too delicate looking to be heiress to the throne of such a vast empire. She seemed to be swallowed in her formal black gown and her elaborately dressed dark hair shone like ribbons in this light. Her skin was smooth and pale, her full pink mouth drawn as if she held back a deep inner hurt by will alone. 

She was pretty enough, he supposed, but Kyndan had never been one for the fragile type.

Sighing inwardly, Kyndan moved back with the others, impatient for the princess to pass, impatient for this mission to be over. He wondered if he would have to stay the whole week on Az-kye or if he could manage to bow out of some of the festivities his sister planned for his visit and get back to Tellaran space early. He would be taking command of the cruiser
Sertarian
shortly after his return; he still hadn’t met with his first officer and he had a dozen personnel postings to approve.

The princess and her attendants were a scant few paces away now and everyone in the area dropped their eyes, bowing respectfully at her approach.

Except Kyndan.

He knew he was supposed to. Certainly Kinara had impressed the vital importance of observing royal protocol upon him.

He just couldn’t.

Because in that moment she looked right at him. Velvety, soft black, her eyes were haunted by a sadness that speared him to his core.

And suddenly there was no Fleet, no Tellaran Realm, no Empire, no palace.

Just her . . .

Alari dragged her feet but the press of Imperial attendants around her propelled her forward. At the eastern end of the palace lay the doors to Lashima’s sanctuary where she and Jazan would make their vows. The distance was far too short. Along her path, every person stood with eyes downcast and heads bent in acknowledgment of the First Imperial Daughter.

Save one.

One man looked boldly at her. He was tall as a warrior and broad through the shoulders but his hair was short as no warrior would wear it. Warm brown was a hair color sometimes seen among the Az-kye but wavy like his, never. In a sea of black, his clothes of dark blue and white tied with a yellow sash set him apart and he wore no sword at his back.

Tellaran.

She had seen only a very few of them and always from a distance. Tellarans had been kept as slaves until the red-haired clan leader at the man’s side had returned them all to their own space. Certainly none of them had ever been permitted within a dozen paces of an Imperial princess before.

Alari never expected to see one of them so close and she passed within an arm’s length of him. The color of the sky in summer, the Tellaran’s intelligent eyes held echoes of both deep pain and humor, the skin around them greater creased with care than should be at his age. His handsome, square-jawed face was more expressive than any warrior’s would be and as she met his gaze, his brow creased ever so slightly, his full mouth parting.

She had the sudden impulse to reach out, to thrust her hand around those who stood between them for him to clasp. Alari could almost feel the warmth and strength of his fingers wrapping around hers.

And then they were past him and she was in the sea of black, of downcast eyes and bent heads again.

Tedah nudged him. “Hey, you okay?”

Kyndan blinked. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You were supposed to bow,” Tedah reminded with a quick worried glance around them. No one else seemed to have noticed his breech of protocol. “In fact, you looked dazed for a minute there.”

Kyndan looked down the hall. He couldn’t see her any longer. The murmur of conversation resumed, the buzz of the Az-kye language humming in his ears again as the courtiers and servants crowded back into the center of the aisle and blocked his view.

She was on her way to get
married,
for fuck’s sake.

“I’m fine,” Kyndan repeated.

Tedah was frowning at him.

He gave a short laugh to shake off the last of his bemusement, drawing scandalized looks from the nearby Az-kye.

Right, no laughing.

“So,” Kyndan said. “I guess we should get over to the sanctuary so the empress can give her blessing or whatever.”

“Actually,” Kinara began brightly, “the elder said that to show her favor for the treaty, the empress will be acknowledging us at the end, right before the princess and her betrothed make their formal declaration.”

“Ah,” Kyndan said.

“It is a great honor,” Aidar said.

“In the Tellaran culture, most important usually goes first,” Kyndan said.

He read surprise in Lianna and Aidar’s dark eyes.

“Because otherwise you have people standing around waiting,” he explained. 

They looked at him blankly.

“It shows you think their time is important.” He said this last bit a little too sharply.

“That’s not how the Az-kye see it,” Kinara put in quickly. “They see it as not rushing you out of the way to get to someone with more status.”

“So what you’re saying is to make us happy they make us go last?”

“Well,” Kinara said with a half-shrug. “
Second
to last.”

“I guess today’s just full of honors for me,” Kyndan sighed.

He was
definitely
going to figure out a way to leave early.

The empress stood before the jeweled doors of Lashima’s sanctum as Alari took her position on her mother’s right. Jazan gave a small smirk when he saw her, then took up his own place to the left of the empress, all of them waiting as the court assembled. Alari wished they might take forever, that the closed sanctuary doors might never open.

In the last hours before the festival of Ren’thar would begin her mother made the traditional gestures of generosity. The empress presented gifts to a number of children, some of whom, dressed in their ragged best, had clearly been brought from the lower city for the ceremony. A few young boys selected by talent, or more likely the influence of powerful relatives of the merchant class, were elevated to the warrior caste and sent to homes to be fostered.

The empress granted gifts to the temples, of course, and announced that the winner of the contests this year would be permitted to formally court the Princess Saria.

Alari saw her sister blink and a rush of worry clouded her sweet face.

In a magnanimous gesture Empress Azara allowed the Tellaran to approach her along with the red-haired clan leader.

The Tellaran man walked with grace and a pride that was surprising.  He had a boldness to his gaze when he looked at the empress that bordered on the insolent and, just for an instant, Alari saw his blue eyes glance her way.

He and the red-haired
Ti’antah,
impeded by the size of her belly, bowed to the empress.

“
Ti’antah
of the Az’anti,” the empress said. “It is agreeable to see you.”

“Thank you, Imperial Majesty,” the clan leader replied. “It is an honor to be in your presence again. And I thank you again for granting my request to serve you and the Az-kye people in these peace talks.”

Alari knew Kinara of the Az’anti by sight. All the Empire knew the woman whose mother had sent her to confront the attacking Tellaran Fleet months ago, how she had succeeded beyond all expectations. Although Kinara had been welcomed home by the empress herself, gifted honors and rewards beyond measure, neither Alari nor her sister had ever been permitted to meet her.

Her mother hated this woman. 

Alari knew, but had never so much as whispered to any, even Saria, that her mother feared the Az’anti clan leader’s growing renown as well.  Kinara was even whispered to be a
Cy’atta
—a Stardancer—emissary of the goddess Lashima and therefore a grave threat to her mother’s rule.

“After such service as yours to the Empire,” the empress said with a beneficent smile, “it is I who must claim the honor of our acquaintance and offer thanks for your efforts in this matter.”

Kinara bowed again, as far she was able. “You are too kind, Imperial Majesty. Please allow me to present to you the Tellaran Realm’s representative for the peace talks commencement, Commander Kyndan Maere of the Tellaran Fleet.”

“Of course,” Azara said graciously. “All of Az-kye welcomes you, Commander.”

“The honor is mine, Imperial Majesty.” The Tellaran’s voice was deep and warm, his Az-kye perfect, but the way he formed the words was smoother, imparting a soothing hum to their tone. “I bring you greetings from the Tellaran Council and their hopes for a new era of peace between our peoples.”

“With your permission I will begin talks for a peace treaty with the Tellaran Realm immediately,” the red-haired clan leader said.

“Certainly.” Azara held her hand out; an attendant gave her a datapad. “I have chosen the names of clan leaders to assist you in these efforts, Kinara of the Az’anti.”

The red-haired clan leader blinked but recovered quickly to take the datapad. “Thank you, Imperial Majesty.” She glanced at the list, her brow furrowing slightly. “Would Your Majesty wish all of these clan leaders to take part in the talks?”

The empress raised her eyebrows. “The talks will be involved. A great deal needs to be decided.”

“Imperial Majesty,” Kinara of the Az’anti began hesitantly and even from here Alari could see the clan leader’s dismay and disappointment. “To involve all these clan leaders—it will take months just to
begin
the talks.”

“My Lady of the Az’anti,” the empress said, slightly reproving now. “This must be done properly. If the Tellarans are to be our allies we must know it to be a
lasting
peace.” The empress smiled again. “I look forward to the peace and security these talks will bring my Empire.”

She gave them a nod of dismissal; the pair bowed again and withdrew. 

Alari’s stomach knotted. 

No more official duties, no more delays . . .

The High Priestess of Lashima started forward. Jazan, along with members of his clan, proudly stepped into position and Alari willed her feet to move as the court readjusted to take their proper places for the declaration.

Sparkling with gemstones placed to recreate the night sky as it appeared over the city at the time of the spring equinox, the doors of the sanctuary remained closed before her. The court stood arrayed before the entrance to the goddess’s sacred space; reflected in the stones there, Alari could see the black of the courtiers’ clothing, the bright garb of the ancient and bent High Priestess of Lashima as she hobbled forward on her cane, and a single jewel of blue and white.

Alari took up her place next to Jazan, the position of her attendants forcing her even closer to him. Alari’s hands pressed against the gems embroidered into her skirt, the stones’ edges rough against her damp palms.

Saria sent her a worried look and the empress gave her a brief, rare nod of approval. Alari sought the comfort of the goddess’ gaze but Lashima’s kindly face was concealed behind the doors of the sanctuary.

They had now only to declare publicly for each other and the doors to the sanctuary would be opened. She and Jazan would walk inside with the High Priestess to stand before the goddess, they would clasp hands, and the last words that would unite them would be spoken.

High Priestess Celara’s hair was snowy, her back bent with age, a thousand creases on her papery skin, but her smile was kindly, her eyes bright and joyous as befitting one who represented the goddess of Love.  

“If you would enter Lashima’s sanctuary to be mated, speak now to your intent,” High Priestess Celara intoned. “Jazan of the Az’rayah, do you choose the First Imperial Daughter Alari?”

Her heart pounded so hard she suddenly feared she would be ill.